


Intricacies on Film

by xeniaraven



Series: The 1970's Universe [1]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: 1970's Slang? Groovy., Alternate Universe - 1970s, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Body Dysphoria, Body Worship, First Time, M/M, Masturbation, Photographer Obi-Wan, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, bottom!Anakin skywalker, kinda fluffy but mostly just soft, top!obi-wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:34:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26197201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xeniaraven/pseuds/xeniaraven
Summary: Anakin wasn't supposed to be in this stupid photography class. This was junior year, the height of 1977 sitting on his shoulders and willing him to be something more. His friends were all back on campus and nothing could ruin it for him.That is until Kenobi stepped foot into his photography course with a proposition to everyone there. And Anakin just couldn't stop thinking about it, even when he knew it would be the worst idea he wanted to agree too.Or: the 1977 AU where Photographer Obi-Wan just wants to take pictures of Anakin.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala & Anakin Skywalker
Series: The 1970's Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1917475
Comments: 40
Kudos: 236





	1. Maybe I'm Wrong, But Who's to Say What's Right?

**Author's Note:**

> This idea stole my sanity away and said I could only have it back once I finished typing it. I really hope you enjoy! A big shout out to the discord server for helping me through a few ideas.
> 
> Chapter title from World Turning by Fleetwood Mac.

From the typography posters, scenic nature displays, and strange array of portraits hanging around the heavily used studio, Anakin knew he should have never signed up for Intro to Photography. A junior doesn’t sign up for 100 level classes. Especially a junior art major. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure he did. Must’ve put a one instead of a two in the wrong spot on registration day: doomed to forever be with the graphic design and _other_ artsy kids he barely fit in with from the looks of it. 

A Polaroid camera, the ones with the square instant pictures? Those he could easily do. Kodak? Canon? Minolta? Never. He didn’t even know if the last name was entirely English. 

Still, he took his seat on one of the wobbly lab benches, the warped wood extremely uncomfortable to spend more than a few minutes on. 

“I’m assuming-” his professor started, adjusting the hem of her blouse one too many times. “Listen up! I’m assuming if you’ve enrolled in my class you have _some_ knowledge of the great photographers. Therefore, you should know this man.”

She gestured to the second presence at the front of the room. Anakin thought he was just another student the way he stood, one hand tucked casually into his jean pocket, the other clutching the edge of his denim jacket. He trailed his eyes over the man, from the worn leather boots poking out under the hem of his bell-bottom jeans, to the belt wrapped high on his waist: synching him at just the right spot. The hem of his shirt hung loosely, yellow paisley print painting him an artistic soul from a mile away.

Fall of 1977 had never looked better on someone. 

“Dude,” the girl next to him giggled. “That’s Kenobi. I can’t believe we got _Kenobi_ in here!”

“Oh, yeah, groovy. Kenobi’s work is…” Anakin trailed off, hoping the girl didn’t really care if he finished the sentence anyways. 

“Now,” his professor started again. “If you don’t know this man, I’ll be disappointed, but not surprised given this is an entry-level course.”

“Look,” Kenobi spoke, a smile spreading across his face in a megawatt grin. “I get it. Shell-shocked that I’m here. Or too bashful to speak up. I’ve got photos to get to though so I’m going to keep it short.”

Anakin couldn’t stop staring at the man and the way his hands moved as he spoke. At how animated he was in front of a class of complete strangers. 

“Here’s the skinny: I’m looking for my next muse. Tonight. This room. Seven o’clock. This is not an interview. And putting on a pound of makeup, ladies, won’t help. I’m choosing who I want-” Anakin could have sworn Kenobi looked straight at him then, locked eyes with him all the way at the back of the room. “And none of you can convince me otherwise.”

“You heard Kenobi. Seven o’clock tonight if you want to be in line.”

“Oh,” Kenobi interrupted. “And gender doesn’t matter, so just show up.”

Anakin heard every girl in the room collectively swoon, clutching their hands together, twirling their hair, and tugging at the fringe on their shirts. They weren’t wrong: he was attractive, but a bit of an arrogant ass too. What could he do with a camera that Anakin couldn’t?

By the end of the class period, it seemed he could do _everything_ with a camera that Anakin couldn’t. Anakin could barely figure out what the term aperture was, and how it had anything to do with shutter speed or light intake. He wanted his Polaroid One Step back, and he wanted it back now. 

“Ahsoka, it was the worst,” he groaned, walking with her towards the campus cafeteria. “I don’t remember signing up for this!”

“Ah, you’ll get there Skyguy. Besides, you already have three subjects ready and willing to pose. Two of which are starving waiting for 'Your Lateness' to get out’a class,” she punched him lightly in the arm, careful to avoid the borrowed camera swinging from his side. 

“Sorry, I must’ve gotten my days mixed up,” Anakin sighed, noticing she was wearing her classic orange turtleneck and bright blue overalls. “This class is Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays. I might’ve told you Wednesday on accident.”

“No sweat. You know it takes a whole lot to get Rex worked up about anything. Padme, well that’s a different story.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go see if the caf has better food this year than last. I wasn’t gonna survive with whoever’s mom was cooking last year.”

Anakin fidgeted all through lunch and the last class of his day, worrying his hands under his desk and picking at the buttons down the front of his shirt. He wasn’t a _muse_. He stood no chance against the beautiful women that he saw strutting around campus. Their flowing blonde hair, tailored waists, the sultry sound of their boots, or heels clicking against the pavement. 

What did he have to offer with a scarred face, obscenely curly hair, and whatever you deemed a muscular but not muscular enough body? He wasn’t a flower boy, not built beautiful enough for glitter, peace, and love, but he wasn’t masculine enough for an ex-soldier either. Not that he wanted to be a soldier, but he did want to be someone. Someone the way his friends were.

Rex was a jock. Padme, a flower child wrapped in a social activist’s body. Fit both of their extracurricular activities to a perfect tee: Rex was always running off to play basketball, and he (somehow) was able to keep up with multiple intramurals. Padme joined the debate team and quickly became the most feared woman on campus, but her beauty took at least some of the edge off. 

Anakin got here on scholarship, which he liked to keep as quiet as possible. Wasn’t much of anything but an artist and bit of an engine head, but both gave him something to occupy his mind which let him keep his grades up in other departments. He loved his mother entirely, but she could never have afforded to send him anywhere near this nice without the scholarships. And sadly, even being here he hadn’t really found a place yet. 

As seven o’clock drew closer Anakin couldn’t make up his mind. He _knew_ he wasn’t handsome enough to be someone’s muse. But his heart still hammered out of his chest wanting to see Kenobi again. He wasn’t sure if he could handle the rejection of watching him lift the delicate chin of a woman from across the room, easily selecting his muse, but the spite growing in the pit of his stomach was enough to get him into the dorm commons and onto the phone. 

“Anakin?” Ahsoka finally came to the phone after someone had picked it up for her. “What’s cracking?”

“Look, I need you to make a decision for me, and super quick. I was talking about that Kenobi dude earlier, right?” Anakin started playing nervously with the cord, wrapping it around his finger tightly. 

“Yeah?”

“His meeting is in twenty and- well I- I’m just not-”

“Anakin. If you don’t go, you’re never gonna know what happened. We’re living _free_. Wild and free. So go catch your chance!”

“Alright. But what if-”

“None of that. I’ve known you too long to have you freaking out on me. _Go_. Plus, isn’t there extra credit?”

“Only if you get chosen, which we all know is-”

“Anakin I swear, you’re _never_ going to know if you don’t go. Chillax! He’s hot, you’re free: best case scenario he chooses you, worst case you get to ogle a fine, fine man all night.”

“Alright, alright,” Anakin laughed. “I’m going, but I gotta skitty.”

“May the Force be-” Anakin heard her call out as he slammed the phone down, yelling at her to shut it as it clicked against the stand. Stupid new movie had everyone saying it to him recently. _Starkiller_ this and _Vader_ that. Ruthless. 

Quickly, he rushed back to his dorm, throwing on a pair of wide-legged pants and whatever striped button-up he could find in the pile of clothes strewn across his desk. Rex was absent-mindedly chuckling at him over his homework, tossing a bottle of cologne over to him like he’d been doing for years.

“See you on the flipside man,” Rex laughed out as Anakin slammed the door behind him. Ten minutes to make it to a studio that was fifteen minutes across campus. 

Before walking through the door to the studio he adjusted his shirt, made sure his belt hadn’t gotten all out of whack on his jog over, and swept his unkempt mess of curls back to either side of his face. It was as good as it was going to get, and to him, that wasn’t very good in the first place. 

The room was bustling with people, everyone stationed with a drink in their hand as if this was a party. Maybe it was a party. But there was no music playing. Then again, Anakin couldn’t hear much except his heart pounding in his chest; his ears burning with embarrassment. Every person in this room was gorgeous and he felt like this was the last place in the world he should be. 

His shoe steps on the ground seemed too loud, his hands too shaky, his breathing too erratic. Sweat was already pooling down the back of his shirt and his friends weren’t here to save him from anything. He desperately needed a drink and was looking everywhere to find one before someone pointed just behind him to one of the art tables: red cups and a few packs of cheap beer sitting out for grabs. 

Warm beer wasn’t good to anyone, but he’d drink just about anything to take the edge off. The neck of the glass bottle was sturdy: something to hold onto and wring his hands against in a fake sense of normalcy. Quickly he downed half of it, wincing at the horrific aftertaste. 

Anakin pulled the bottle back from his lips, leaning haphazardly against the drawing table when he finally made eye contact with Kenobi. He had brushed his hair out from earlier, mullet now neat down the back of his head and beard trimmed. He still donned his paisley button up from earlier, the only difference being a few more undone buttons, and no denim jacket to hide his figure. Everyone was here to impress him, not the other way around, and yet he still had the audacity to dress like that.

The panic came spilling back into Anakin’s chest as Kenobi moved closer, working his way through the crowd towards him like something out of a movie but in all the wrong ways. Did every character always want to flee? Was this even normal?

“You came,” Kenobi smiled, leaning against the table next to Anakin. “I didn’t think you’d show.”

“You were waiting for me?” Anakin asked, brows pulled together in confusion.

“Oh- uh... I just noticed everyone else from your class was here but you,” Kenobi said, reaching behind Anakin for a beer. 

“You only saw me for ten minutes max, and I was all the way at the back.”

“Photographic memory. No pun intended,” Kenobi chuckled. “I’m glad you’re here though. Didn’t catch your name earlier.”

“Anakin. And I don’t think I said it.”

“Well then, my apologies for not asking, Anakin. Anyway, what made you decide to show up, and late at that?”

“Oh, well- Sounded fun I suppose. And Professor Allie promised extra credit to whoever you chose as your muse.” 

He laughed nervously, trying to keep his eyes averted from Kenobi as much as possible. That was nearly impossible with the extra buttons Kenobi had decided to leave open--his bare expanse of chest rising and falling with each breath. Did this man know what he was doing to practically everyone in the room?

“So you only came for the extra credit? Couldn’t bring yourself to come of your own volition?” Kenobi took a long swig of his drink, eyeing Anakin to answer the question.

“No,” Anakin mumbled, distracted by the way Kenobi’s throat moved as he swallowed. “No I- I mean kind of, yes, but I also wanted to learn. I figure it’s easier to learn alongside someone who’s doing it right then and there than from slides and poorly drawn chalkboard notes.”

Kenobi smiled at him again, looking him up and down, eyeing every part of Anakin’s outfit. The urge to fix the lines of his shirt suddenly hit, making him fidget with the neck of his beer bottle again. It felt like years had passed before he finally reached Anakin’s eyes; Anakin staring back into the most peaceful blue. 

“Everyone leave!” Kenobi yelled into the room, gesturing towards the door with his hands. “I’ve chosen. Feel free to take the beer with you if you’d like, but don’t go trashing your hallways and dormitories. I will not pay for the damages.”

With a sigh, and a few sobs, everyone started filing out. Those closest to the beers grabbed as many as they could, yelling out into the hallway which fraternities would be hosting for the night. No sense in wasting a party that was already started for them. 

Kenobi took the gold wireframes of his glasses off his face, cleaning them with the corner of his shirt before biting absentmindedly at the earpiece, twirling the frames back and forth between his teeth, thinking about something. Anakin watched how his mouth curved around the metal, the way his lower lip dipped down minusculey at the weight. Kenobi’s tongue would dart out to meet the tip of the frame, lips parted ever so slightly. After a minute he finally came out of his thoughts, pulling the small portion of his frames out slowly between his lips before placing them back on his face. 

“Take a seat,” he said, gesturing to the art stools before them. 

Anakin sat nervously on the stool, gripping the frame between his thighs to keep from fidgeting. Kenobi brought his own chair from a different table, one foot touching the floor and the other propped obscenely high on the stool ring: arms resting loosely over his knee. Anakin tried his hardest to look anywhere but where the line of his jeans was drawing to. 

He was fucked. Ashoka should have chosen differently for him. 

“I suppose now that I’ve chosen you, you’re intrigued by what it is I’m looking to have you do,’ Kenobi started. “I’m working on a portfolio of work right now that analyzes the human body. We lost a lot of men in the war. It was a shame, but it got me thinking about bodies. The human body, the lines and angles of it, well,” his eyes trailed down Anakin’s form, smirking just a bit. “They fascinate me. And I’ve made it my passion to document the beauty of the male and female form under different types of light. Artificial, natural, blue, green, you name it. If I can make the light do something well…”

“I’m sorry Kenobi but I really think you’ve got the wrong-”

“No, I don’t,” Kenobi interrupted, eyes sturdy, locked on to Anakin’s. “I don’t.” 

“But you don’t even-”

“I don’t need to know. Watch.” Kenobi got up, grabbing a Polaroid camera from the room, and checking to make sure it had film. “Turn your head, angle it up a bit more. Beautiful.”

Anakin heard the click of the shutter, smack of the mirror, and whirring of the motors working to spread the chemicals of the instant film evenly. Kenobi knew not to shake the film, tucking it away in his pocket for a few minutes to develop. 

“If an instant film camera can love you--an SX-70, not even a 35 millimeter--then I’m certain the lense I have will adore you. I don’t need to see more than the angle of your cheekbones and the long line of your neck to know that.”

Kenobi pulled the image out of his pocket after a few minutes of stiff silence had passed, coming to stand next to Anakin’s seated frame and show him. 

“See this,” he said pointing to the shadow of Anakin’s Adam’s apple, the way it jutted sharply out from his throat. “Stunning. Unique in the most pleasant of ways. And your side profile, the angle of your nose. The shadows it creates on your face. You have everything a photographer could want and more.”

“But you said body, not face,” Anakin tried to argue, turning away from the image. “You have no idea if _my_ body is the one that’s going to have all the good shadows and shapes you need.”

“Are you offering to give me a show?” Kenobi laughed, placing the photo on the table next to them and leaning back on his elbows against the cool metal. 

“No- that’s not. _No_ ,” Anakin sputtered, feeling warmth flood his face, staring down at the dirty linoleum floor beneath him. “That’s not what I meant at all.”

“Look,” Kenobi started, moving to find something around the room. “I’m serious about wanting you as my muse. You saw all the girls and guys in here. I chose you for a reason. If you’re as serious as I am,” he scribbled something out on the corner of a pad of paper, ripping it out of the notebook and tucking it into Anakin’s shirt pocket. “Meet me here. Saturday. 3 p.m. sharp. I don’t want to miss the golden hour.”

********

Anakin couldn’t sleep that night, the image of the glorious bastard, how smug he had looked, etched into his mind. Rex had gone out for the night, most likely crashing with Cody and his crew at their crib. The room was silent to everything but Anakin’s mind, the cool breeze from their box fan barely a relief against how hot he felt, skin flush from his thoughts. 

He desperately wanted to give into himself, into the thoughts that had plagued him since he got back. He was weak, so terribly weak when it came to desire. No matter how much he tried to simply fall asleep, the need was calling at him, his cock begging to be touched. 

Finally, he rolled over onto his back, reaching into his underwear to grab himself, biting his lip at how wonderful it felt. How he had needed this since eleven this morning when Kenobi walked through the front door of that art studio. 

He imagined the way his voice would sound, purring in his ear praises upon end about how beautiful he looked. The way Kenobi’s hand would trail down his chest, how rough his fingertips would feel tracing the lines of his stomach. The relief at finally, finally feeling him grip his cock, thumb smearing his precome across the tip.

_So needy. I thought you didn’t even want me. Wouldn’t even give me a show when I asked for it._

Even with all his efforts, his soft whines grew in the room, breathing rapid and shallow as he felt the heat pool in his lower stomach, coil turning tighter with every movement. His fantasy slowly becoming all too vivid in his mind: the way Kenboi’s hands would grip into Anakin’s hips as he nipped at the delicate skin there, his beard brushing lightly against the side of his cock. How his tongue would feel as he licked a long stripe up the underside before teasing the tip of it in the same fashion he twirled his glasses earlier, tongue darting out to trace the line around the head. How warm and wet and slick his mouth would be; an imagined moan sending a jolt of pleasure along his length. And the way he would finally pull off, eyes wide and looking up at Anakin from below:

_Gorgeous. So beautiful. Will you finish for me baby? Paint me pretty just for you?_

With a breathy _yes_ Anakin spilled over his hand and onto his stomach, shuddering from his orgasm, eyes fluttering closed at the ways his muscles relaxed. His forehead was flush and sticky from sweat, the room smelling faintly of sex. While he was finally calm enough to sleep, relaxed into a blissful state, there was no way he was going to let himself sleep with his own mess. 

He grabbed an old T-Shirt from near his bed, sacrificing yet another one to the “do not wear” pile, before grabbing his shower bag and making his way to the communal showers. 

Once he finished he took a look at himself in the mirror. His towel hung low to his hips, the lines of his hip bones sticking out far too much for his liking. He cataloged the way his shoulders looked, how they sloped down too much, one more than the other. His arms not nearly as muscular as he would have liked. The raised scars on his chest from one bad batch of acne in middle school. 

The longer he stared the more he deemed himself nothing special. Nothing worthy of a muse.

 _He will never think of you that way,_ Anakin thought to himself as he went back to his room, tucking himself under the sheets for an unrestful night of sleep. 

*******

“You’re doing _what?!”_ Ahsoka yelled at Anakin over lunch.

“Yeah dude, that doesn’t really sound-”

“Give him a break,” Padme jabbed at Rex’s side. “I don’t see anyone wanting to document your ass, Rex.”

“Hey! I bet they’d love to,” Rex jabbed back. “They’re just shy about it.”

“You two shut it. I’m trying to find out details here!” Ahsoka said, pointing her fork at them in a warning. “So you mean to tell me Mister _Casanova Kenobi_ waltzes onto campus in the morning looking for a muse, and waltzes off campus that night declaring _you_ his muse. I feel like I’m trippin’.”

“I know, I just- I should’ve said no,” Anakin said, hanging his head in his hands. “But he didn’t even give me the chance!”

“I swear Skywalker if you would have said no I would have-”

“Padme!” Anakin yelled, causing a few people in the cafeteria to turn. “I haven’t really said yes either though.”

“Dude you better go. He’s not asking to bang you,” Anakin blushed at her comment, clearing his throat and fixing his hair to keep them from noticing. “He’s asking for a few photos. You’d be famous. Well, maybe not your face, but you get it.”

“Christ Padme it’s not porn,” Rex laughed. “Don’t phrase it that way.”

“But it is, it _is_ … Anakin what is it?”

“Body shapes. It’s like taking up-close pictures of the shadows people’s skin casts.”

“See _body shapes_ ,” Padme mimicked a woman’s figure in the air, laughing a bit. “It’s porn.”

“Didn’t you just agree with Ahsoka he wasn’t asking to bang Anakin though,” Rex remarked, leaning his elbows on the table.

“Ok fine. _Body shapes,_ ” Padme enunciated, leaning back in her chair with a slight scowl. 

All three of them laughed a bit, Anakin excusing himself for his afternoon classes as he grabbed his backpack and dropped his tray off at the cafeteria’s dining station. 

_It’s just photography. No one even has to know it’s you. Anonymous!_ Anakin tried reasoning with himself as he rushed across the quad to his ceramics class.

******

Even after a hectic half-week of classes--twists and turns so varied he wondered what he had stumbled into--Friday night came peacefully to him. The full moon streamed across the rug Rex had picked for their dorm and illuminated the small space. Anakin had already made up his mind: there was no universe in the world where he would go to the photoshoot. No amount of extra credit would get him to meet Kenobi. He was certain he would rather fail, would rather be subject to Ashoka’s ridicule for the next month, than be photographed by someone so talented as Kenobi. 

Kenobi had so much faith in him. That his body would be beautiful and perfect for his portfolio of work. But Anakin woke up to the sight of his body every day. Every morning he saw the small flicks of acne and smattering of small scars. He’d gotten into one too many fights as a kid, much to the dismay of his mother, and ran from a few too many cops. He wasn’t necessarily a bad kid, he was just looking for that rush of adrenaline in all the wrong places. But drowning in those crystal blue eyes, getting lost in the feeling of him wouldn’t be an option. 

It was a fantasy and nothing more. 

It was a difficult slope to slide: the unbelief that he was attractive alongside the knowledge that his friends believed him the most handsome person they had laid eyes on. Then again, they hadn’t seen Kenobi’s face. They hadn’t laid eyes on truly the most handsome person in the universe, rivaling Andy Gibb and that new boy, Harrison Ford. 

But when the lazy sunshine of Saturday morning woke him, guilt settled into his stomach. It seeped into his muscles and kept him locked underneath impossibly heavy blankets for what felt like hours. Rex had finally gotten up for the morning, silent and stoic as a mountain in winter. He wasn’t much of a morning person, and today Anakin was grateful for it. Something unspoken that could only be figured out after having to share a room with someone for three years. 

Faintly the campus bells rang out one o’clock in the afternoon, and Anakin’s stomach chimed in with its own need of breakfast. He couldn’t avoid campus forever, and why would he? It was Kenobi who was a guest to the quad, not him. 

Groggily, he set his feet into the plush rug next to his bed, stretching his toes out, rolling his ankles into the feeling of softness against his skin. He stretched his arms as far up as possible, enjoying the feeling of his body waking from its deep relaxation. But the guilt didn’t leave. It didn’t get wrung out of his muscles the further he pulled them. It didn’t roll off his back the same way his blanket did. The feeling was still settled in him; a bone-deep nervousness that somewhere out there he would be disappointing someone. 

The weather outside was still a bit warm in comparison to what Anakin was used to at home. His discomfort in the way the humidity clung to everything was punishment for moving further south he supposed. At least the fashion world had invented shorts. He reminded himself to thank the first person that decided cutting a pair of jeans a lot shorter and cuffing them at the bottom would be socially acceptable. Without them, he surely would be stuck sweating inside his bedroom back home all summer long. 

With shorts put on and a thin turtleneck, Anakin went to hurry out the door towards breakfast. Just as he had gotten to the stairs he thought better of himself, racing back to his room and grabbing a baby blue windbreaker from the closet. Anakin was fairly sure his mother lied in saying it was a boy’s jacket, but damn did he like the way blue looked on him. 

He stumbled over the people passed out in the stairwell, holding his breath as long as possible from the way the closed-off hallway smelled, before practically sprinting out the front door. The crisp autumn air filled his lungs: leaves just starting to turn a beautiful shade of gold, fluttering to the ground with each step he took. 

Campus was always full of people when it was like this: frisbee players taking up the quad, book geeks sprawled out on blankets in the yard. Far too many couples having picnics and laying in each other’s company for Anakin’s liking, but who was he to judge? In his mind, love was love, even if many didn’t agree with the concept. 

Rushing into the cafeteria ten minutes before they switched the menu to lunch he was able to grab a few pancakes and scrambled eggs. Cold, but that’s nothing a little syrup in the microwave couldn’t fix. 

One o’clock turned to two, and on his exploration around campus, watching how it turned to life as the sun slowly made its way down the curve of the sky, three o’clock was rung out through campus. Each distinct ring made Anakin extremely aware of himself, the guilt crawling back up his neck, twisting his core until it felt that breakfast might be coming right back up. 

_He’s going to be so disappointed_. Anakin couldn’t break the thought, letting it spiral in his head far too long. Disappointment. Disappointment. But he couldn’t do that, not to someone who’s work was renowned. His entire portfolio could be hinging on Anakin showing up. As an artist, who was he to deny someone their portfolio?

His mind raced, turning in circles around campus to figure out how close to the visitors center he was. It was a fury of spinning, dizzying in trying to calm his racing chest and wanting to make it before Kenobi decided he wasn’t worth the time anymore; before he hung his head low, let out a defeated sigh, and drove off never to be seen on this campus again. 

Anakin’s feet were flying faster than he had ever seen before. In the back of his mind, he laughed at the thought of Rex being proud of him. He kicked up leaves in his wake, pushing past anyone that had got in his path to try and make it all the way to the other side of campus in time. The closer he got, the more that knot wound in his stomach loosened. 

No matter what happened, at least he wouldn’t be feeling guilty anymore. At least he tried.

As Anakin finally saw the visitors center approaching he slowed down, fixed his hair as always, tugging at his outfit and trying desperately to calm his breathing. He knew no matter what it’d look like he sprinted, but he could try to fake an air of collectedness to himself. 

Every negative thing Anakin had felt building in him all morning left the second he saw Kenobi lounging across the hood of his car, one leg propped up, the other a long line down the slope of the hood. He was fiddling with his camera it seemed, holding it up to his face only to tilt it back and look at the settings. 

As Anakin’s boots started kicking against the gravel dirt path walking up to him, Kenobi turned his face, squinting as the sun hit his eyes. 

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t show,” he smiled, sitting up in one fluid motion. “Then again I remember how late you showed to my party and figured you were just on a different time zone than the rest of us.”

Anakin chuckled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket to keep from fiddling with them. He couldn't already be nervous around him; he just got here! 

“Cutlass Supreme?” Anakin tried pointing to Kenobi’s car with his hands still stuck in the thin nylon pockets. 

“Sorry?”

“Your car. Seventy-five Cutlass Supreme right?”

“So you’re a car guy?” Kenobi moved off his hood, opening the passenger side door and shoving the seat down to grab his camera bag from the back. “I didn’t pin you as one.”

“Everyone has their thing.”

“And yours,” Kenobi said, turning to look over his shoulder as he set the passenger seat back up. “Seems to be cars along, with fall on top, summer on bottom fashion.”

“I didn’t- I wasn’t sure,” Anakin mumbled, looking down at the outfit he had chosen for the day.

“I’m teasing. Your attire doesn’t matter today anyways. Wear what makes you comfortable.”

“Wait, wh-”

“You are aware of what you agreed to, right Anakin?”

“Yeah, I guess in the back of my mind I was. But now that I’m facing it it’s a little different.”

“You can say no still. I won’t force you.”

Anakin watched Kenobi’s face as he set his hands on the top of his car from the diver side, staring back at Anakin. Sure he was aware of the concept of body shapes and what that meant, but just now had the puzzle pieces clicked in his brain that it was _his_ body contributing to the shapes. And it was going to be far more than the way Kenobi had posed him in the art studio. This was going to be so far out of his comfort level that he wasn’t sure how to respond. He just stared back, brows furrowed in concentration.

“I promise not to go outside your comfort if you agree,” Kenobi finally said, barely audible. “I’m here to make you feel comfortable. This shouldn’t be a jarring experience Anakin.”

“Ok,” Anakin finally breathed out, nodding his head more times than necessary. “Ok Kenobi-”

“Obi-Wan. Kenobi is far too formal. I only go by that with my work to help keep a bit of myself personal.”

“Obi-Wan... I’m down if you’re down?”

“Jump in. It’ll take about twenty minutes for us to get where I want to go, and that’s if I’m speeding.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://xeniaraven.tumblr.com)! I'd love to just scream about these 70's boys. Next chapter won't be too long of a wait so stay tuned!


	2. I Need Somebody to Help Me Through the Night

The beginning of the ride was as tense as a forest right before the onset of a storm. Anakin could practically feel the uneasiness riding off of him like a shelf cloud, the looming possibility of everything going wrong. Obi-Wan kept his car crystal clean too; barely anything for Anakin to stare at and ask about, so instead he picked at his cuticles and fidgeted with his hands. 

“So,” Obi-Wan started, making Anakin practically jump out of his seat. “Oh sorry. I didn’t mean to have you sitting here so on edge.”

“Oh no no, I’m fine. I was just daydreaming.”

“Daydreaming… Well, the place I’m taking you to is just an old shack I found a few months back. It’s in the most striking field, but the flowers aren’t what it’s for. I already think of the human form as something delicate and soft, so the old wood and busted out windows will make for a nice backdrop.”

“That really doesn’t sound safe Obi-Wan. Are you sure?”

“Yes. It’s a gorgeous location. And don’t worry, I’ve got blankets and pillows in the trunk. There’s a whole array of crap-”

“Woah,  _ crap _ ,” Anakin interrupted, raising an eyebrow at him as he tried to contain a laugh. 

“What’s wrong with  _ crap _ ,” Obi-Wan enunciated.

“You just, you always talk so… so refined.  _ Crap _ doesn’t sound right coming out of your mouth.”

“Neither did ‘Cutlass Supreme?’ out of yours. I suppose we’ll both learn something about each other today.”

“I suppose so,” Anakin giggled again, the resolved tension finally letting him relax back into the seat a bit.

Obi-Wan rambled about the few projects he had previously put out, fiddling a bit with his car radio as it started to play nothing but static. 

“So Anakin, what are you studying?”

“Don’t laugh, but I don’t truly know?”

Obi-Wan dared a glance at him, face full of confusion. “You don’t know?”

“I mean, technically I’m an art major. I’m studying ceramics and painting at the moment. But it just… I don’t know... It just doesn’t feel right." 

“Talk through it with me. Perhaps your mind will figure itself out with just a bit of vocalization.”

“I need to keep busy with my hands or my mind,” Anakin pushed a finger into the middle of his forehead. “This stupid thing just doesn’t shut up. It’s always racing with a million ideas or- or thoughts until I’m doing something with my hands that takes just enough concentration to get it to shut up. When it's quiet it’s so chill, so relaxing. I can finally breathe for a second. So I know I have to do something with my hands, something far more than business or math and numbers. I can’t do numbers anyways. They told me at one point numbers were imaginary and I about fainted on sight.  _ Imaginary _ Obi-Wan. But, yeah… it doesn’t seem right. Seems like the right idea but the wrong format.”

“I see,” Obi-Wan said, visibly mulling over everything Anakin had just blurted out of his mind. “You seemed like a car guy to me though. Why not just go into mechanics? The opportunity to work with your hands still presents itself, just a different format.”

“I guess, I just don’t wanna disappoint my mom by leaving school you know? I worked so hard to get the funding to come here that, I guess, just dropping to go be someone’s apprentice doesn’t seem fair.”

“Does she love you?”

“What kind of a question is that?! Of course she loves me!”

“Then she will understand.” Obi-Wan warmly smiled at him, waiting for a few cars to pass before turning down a barely maintained dirt road that went into the tree line. “She will understand.”

Obi-Wan leaned down to crank open his window, letting his hand fall out the side of his car into the breeze. Anakin watched as he fluttered his fingers in the wind, dipping his hand up and down as if he could play music on each wisp of air. It seemed peaceful, the world living within Obi-Wan. So sure of who he was as a person and of his place. 

Anakin watched as his hair blew in the breeze, the way Obi-Wan tilted his head back into his headrest just a bit more, wrist lying lazily over the edge of the steering wheel. The air smelled so alive: the smell of pine sap and the late wildflowers that were blooming in every sunny path they could find beneath the blanket of branches filling his senses. 

He reached down the side of his door too, cranking his window open and lying his head against the edge of the windowsill. The feeling of the breeze, humid yet still cold, sliding against his arms, between each strand of hair on his head, was the most relaxed he had been in years. He reached his hand out once the scenery changed, trying to catch the blades of tall grass between his fingers as they rolled slowly to a stop. 

“We’re here,” Obi-Wan said, gently touching Anakin’s shoulder. “Take a look.”

Anakin got out, stretching a bit, as he watched how the sun dipped its rays into the field of grass and wildflowers before them. A gold he had never encountered before came across the field as each stem danced for mother nature. He plucked a blue cornflower from the bunches of them before him, twirling the stem between his fingers, watching how the petals fluttered with each movement. 

“Can you give me a hand?” He heard Obi-Wan call. “Grab the pillows and blankets please?”

Quickly he came to the trunk of Obi-Wan’s car, tucking the cornflower behind his ear before grabbing as much into his arms as he could. 

_ Two trips is for losers. _

Obi-Wan kicked open the door of the old shack, dust flying into the air as he did. Already there were a few candles lying around on the warped wooden floor and a small trunk in the corner. Anakin put the pillows and blankets down on the opposite end of the shack next to where Obi-Wan was setting up his camera and tripod stand. 

For how beautiful the outside was, the inside was clearly being claimed by nature. Vines crept up one wall, the leaves drooping down the side and threatening to collapse it with the weight. Each window had been busted out long ago, the remnants of the frame scattered across the floor or hanging loosely by a few rusted-out nails. 

“God the lighting in here is beautiful this afternoon,” Obi-Wan said, crouched on the floor.

Anakin turned to find him staring at him in awe. Eyes darting ever so subtly over the planes of Anakin’s face, lips slightly parted before he cleared his throat. He watched as Obi-Wan’s face returned back to neutral, the perfect picture of a professional photographer. 

“Are you ready to begin?” Obi-Wan finally stood before him, cautiously coming closer.

“I think I have to be at this point,” Anakin chuckled nervously.

“You can always say no. Rigidness, stiffness, it all comes through. I want you to be relaxed.”

“Is that why you brought-” Anakin pointed to the pile of pillows and few blankets he had carried in.

“Of course. I wouldn’t want you getting a splinter on accident.”

“I was just- I thought- but I didn’t mean to-”

“Oh.  _ Oh _ .. Anakin no that’s not-” Obi-Wan blushed, heat rising to his face faster than he could speak. Anakin watched as he fumbled over his words, the tiniest part of his brain thinking it was a bit cute.

“No, I’m sorry. My-my friends, they were teasing me earlier and it just put me in the wrong headspace. I didn’t assume you...”

“Good. Good. I wouldn't want you assuming-”

“No. Never. We’re chill.”

“Chill,” Obi-Wan said with finality. “Not the best shift in conversation but, I’m going to go get something from my car. Can you be, you know,  _ less dressed _ when I come back?"

“OH!” Anakin said too loudly into the space. “Yeah sure, totally. Absolutely. Like,  _ less _ dressed or  _ not _ dressed.”

“You can leave your underwear on,” Obi-Wan laughed, halfway out the door already. “Unless you  _ are  _ actually here for-”

“No!”

They both laughed, shoulders shaking from the stupidity of it. As Anakin watched Obi-Wan get into the driver seat of his car he grew worried, the ignition firing and engine humming to life. 

_ No no no he’s leaving me! _

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin yelled, leaning out the window slightly, narrowly avoiding the broken glass of the window sill.

“Don’t worry, I’m just pulling it up to the door.”

With one nervous tick gone, another settled into Anakin’s core: the understanding that he was about to do this. That his body was about to become some weird form of artwork. The veins in his arms that he thought were too prominent would become something someone would look at with awe. The scars would be something of beauty. 

_ He  _ would be something of beauty. 

“You like Fleetwood Mac?” Obi-Wan yelled from his car. “I was gonna pop a cassette in. The background noise helps.”

“Oh sure! I dig ‘em.”

All of that positivity went sprinting out the door the second he heard Obi-Wan cut his engine, leaving the beginnings of the tape to play, and saw the small pile of clothing he left on the ground. Desperately, he crouched down to pick up his jacket, anything to cover himself with again just so he wouldn’t have to face the disappointment etched into Obi-Wan’s face the second he saw who he had truly chosen. That he wasn’t some work of art. He wasn’t chiseled from marble like Zeus or Dionysus. He felt more chiseled from his mother’s horrible fruitcake than anything worthy of praise.

But he was too late, Obi-Wan had already swung around the doorframe, hand caught on the wood as he leaned on one foot, grinning into the swing. His eyes finally caught Anakin’s figure and he slowly walked forward, as if something was propelling him that wasn’t entirely himself. His eyes were wide in awe, lips parted again, staring at him until Anakin felt uncomfortable. 

“Stunning,” Obi-Wan breathed out before shaking himself out of his trance. “Your collarbones are exquisite. Can you, can you go stand by the window frame there while I get set up?”

Anakin obeyed, leaning his back against the wood before wincing at how uncomfortable it was. He walked over to Obi-Wan’s side, grabbing one of the blankets, placing it behind his back before leaning on the frame again. As he heard Obi-Wan’s tinkering, shuffling through his bag until he found whatever he was looking for, he watched the wind work its way through the field. A whisper, a faint song, something in the beauty of it that he couldn’t understand but resonated with his soul. 

“The light is almost-” Obi-Wan had his camera strung around his neck, hands outstretched towards Anakin. “May I? Just a titch…”

Anakin nodded, watching as Obi-Wan approached him, careful as if working with a newborn deer. He might have looked like a startled one if he could see himself in the mirror now. Senses heightened like the crackle of the static in an intensifying storm. Everything seemed to be moving through water, slow, dragged out, before Obi-Wan finally brushed his fingertips over Anakin’s collarbone, and lightning danced across his skin. 

He repositioned Anakin lightly, pulling him until his back faced the frame, the rest of him facing Obi-Wan. “Now, tilt your head back as far as it will go… Further. This will fractionally hurt if you’re doing it- right! Yes, don’t move!”

Anakin had to hold himself up on his tiptoes to get his head as far back as Obi-Wan had wanted. He felt Obi-Wan’s hand snake up the line of his throat as he adjusted his head minutely, tilting it ever so slightly to find the shadows casting itself across his sun-kissed skin, slowly fading as the summer dipped its way into fall. 

“Gorgeous, Anakin the lines of your collarbone are- they’re just- the way they cast these shadows across your chest. ”

His cock twitched in the slightest of interest at the praises rolling off Obi-Wan’s tongue, and they had only just started. Frantically, tried to focus on anything else, on the way the sun cast shadows in the field, or the small bird chirps he could hear from a distance. 

“Anakin? Are you listening?” He finally heard, coming back to his senses.

“Hmm?”

“You look so strong in these. Uhm, turn, turn back into the sun the way you were earlier.” 

Obi-Wan came back over to him, hands brushing over his shoulders to angle him the correct way. Anakin’s breath caught in his throat as Obi-Wan moved even closer than the first time, the smell of fresh linen and pressed flower, the smallest hint of spice hidden behind it, filling Anakin’s senses. 

“What soap do you use?” Anakin blurted out without thinking.

“Oh, uhm, I get it from the farmer’s market. There’s a girl,” tilting his head back just a touch, “who makes it for me. It’s got dried petals in it. I guess that’s  _ my _ thing. Now, stay there again.”

Obi-Wan ran outside to the field, returning with a few tiny flowers, placing them into the divot of Anakin’s collarbone. His eyes met Anakin’s eyes again before flitting over to the cornflower that Anakin had placed behind his ear. Softly, Obi-Wan pulled the flower from his ear, plucking a few petals from it and arranging it next to the flower he had placed before putting it behind his own ear. 

“Strong. But delicate,” Obi-Wan said. “A dichotomy in flesh.”

Anakin watched as the lens shuttered close, as Obi-Wan’s thumb turned the dial, twisting the inner mechanics of the camera to bring a new frame of the film forward. He concentrated again on anything other than the sound of Obi-Wan’s voice, the way his calloused fingertips brushed heat into his skin. 

He had never been touched so softly in his entire existence. 

“Minolta?” Anakin asked, fumbling over the word a bit. 

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan said from behind the lens, “SR-T201. She’s such a beauty. Angle to the right for me? Perfect.”

“That’s a far way away from my Rainbow Stripe.”

“The Polaroid camera? The One Step?”

“Yeah,” Anakin blushed, just a tiny bit ashamed. “It does the job well enough.”

“Anakin it’s not about the machine,” he looked up from behind his camera, letting it fall against his chest again as he gently removed the flowers from Anakin’s skin. “You can buy the best SLR on the market right now and if the user doesn’t know how to work it, it will never create something beautiful. But, if you know what you’re doing, you can take remarkable images.”

“Teach me?”

“First, I want you to go walk around the space here. Just, walk.”

“I don’t understand-”

“Anakin dearest, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to walk already?”

Anakin’s heart practically leaped out of his chest at  _ dearest _ .  _ Dearest _ . The air was thicker with something far more than humidity, and Anakin worried his bottom lip, aware that he would not be able to make it through all of this with Obi-Wan’s honey-sweet voice and live-wire touch. 

He turned to walk towards another set of busted out windows, these ones once spanning from floor to ceiling for a brilliant display of the world outside. A pair of tattered curtains still hung from above, Anakin reaching his hand out to touch the soft fabric, his fingers stretched out as far as he could reach to gather the feeling on as much skin as he could muster. 

“Right there,” he heard Obi-Wan exhale from behind him. “Keep your hand like that.”

Again, Obi-Wan’s fingertips were on his skin, a forest fire igniting under each movement. He wrapped one hand underneath Anakin’s elbow, adjusting the angle of his arm just slightly, before dragging his hand up the soft skin on the underside of his forearm and repositioning his wrist. 

“Now, this is going to be a bit strange, but I’m going to take the shot from down the length of your arm. Please, try not to move.”

Obi-Wan came to Anakin’s side, his chest just millimeters from Anakin’s back, camera settled on the back of his shoulder. Obi-Wan was not quite tall enough to loom over Anakin’s shoulder the way he needed. Anakin could hear each click of the shutter, feel each exhale of Obi-Wan’s breath on his skin. He turned his head over his shoulder, keeping from moving his arm but desperately wanting to watch Obi-Wan work. 

“The shutter speed helps with movement and a bit with light. The faster your subject is going, the higher the bottom number you’ll need for your shutter speed. But, the darker your picture becomes.”

“And for this?”

“You’re being still, or as still as humanly possible. So I can go slower. Give the film more time to soak in light. Capture the scene.”

Obi-Wan moved away from him, walking towards his wrist. Anakin already missed the feeling of warmth radiating against his back and shuddered slightly from his absence. He was aware that his cock had slowly been hardening with interest, no matter how much he tried to listen to the cassette playing just outside.

He felt Obi-Wan grab his wrist, pulling his hand up into the air before dragging it behind his head, the palm of Obi-Wan’s hand pausing on the dip of Anakin’s spine before letting his fingertips follow it downwards, his hand pausing against his lower back. 

“Now,” Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “ I want you to act like you’re reaching towards your spine with the hand I just moved, but with your other hand, I want you to clutch your middle. Almost like you’re hugging yourself.”

Anakin did as he was told, trying to contort his body into the right position as Obi-Wan touched different portions of his back over and over again, trying to create the muscle movement he wanted along with the correct curve of Anakin’s spine. 

“Almost, I just-”

Obi-Wan laced his fingers through Anakin’s hair, pulling and positioning the locks so they weren’t in the way of the shadows. A particularly rough tug had Anakin choking down a moan, desperate to keep as professional as he possibly could.

“Sorry,” Obi-Wan mumbled out. “I try to be gentle.”

Finally, he had Anakin the way he wanted him, the position a bit uncomfortable, but Anakin knew it was worth it by the small gasp he heard from behind him. 

“You’re exquisite from behind the lens. Oh, how I wish you could see yourself,” Obi-Wan murmured. “Your freckles dot like the most beautiful constellation. It’s like seeing the Milky Way etched onto a soul. Anakin you’re- I’m so happy I chose you.”

“Really?” Anakin gasped out, turning to look at Obi-Wan before remembering he shouldn’t. 

“Truly. Every scar, every freckle, every curve catches exactly what I had envisioned.”

Anakin could feel sweat starting to form on his skin, his chest heaving with how he felt.  _ Even your scars. He loves even your scars _ echoed in his head like a record player skipping endlessly in a dark room. 

“Here,” he finally heard Obi-Wan say into the room again, hand coming to touch Anakin’s lower back. “Take a couple of these pillows. I’m going to have you lay on the floor for me.” 

Obi-Wan picked up the extra blankets, dropping them onto the floor and indicating for Anakin to lie down. The sun was starting to dip low onto the horizon, casting long shadows into the room. Night was still a long way off, but the golden light seeping in painted Obi-Wan in the most beautiful light where he stood. 

His white button-up was almost sheer with the light reflecting off of it, and the black of his bell-bottoms made his legs look incredibly long. They extended forever, and Anakin’s mind wandered to what they looked like under all that fabric, eyes trailing up until he was snapped from his thoughts again.

“Lay on your side and bend your knees, your left leg just slightly and your right one so your heel is about a foot or two away from your ass.”

Obi-Wan handed Anakin a pillow to put under his head, and another under his back to keep him from being entirely uncomfortable. As he moved to position his feet, Obi-Wan tucked the corners of the shag blanket underneath his leg. He crawled over Anakin’s outstretched form, careful not to bump him from his position. Anakin watched the way his back curved as he did so, the way his sides and hips rose back up to the curve of his-

“Move this leg,” Obi-Wan tucked his hand behind Anakin’s knee, his other hand braced on his ankle. “Just a bit forward like this. See the line that creates?”

Anakin poked his head around himself just slightly to see the form he had created. He wasn’t entirely sure what Obi-Wan saw, but the way he was nitpicking every small angle made him believe this was something new for the man. An experiment. A new shot he had yet to try. 

“You also have aperture on your camera settings,” Obi-Wan started. “It’s known as the F-stop.”

“What a strange name,” Anakin chuckled slightly, perhaps more out of nervousness for seeing the way his body was reacting than actual amusement. The hard line of his cock was horrifyingly apparent in his boxers. There was no way Obi-Wan hadn’t noticed at this point. 

“It stands for focal  _ length _ . If the f-stop number is high, that means the aperture is tight, small, keeping less light from coming in. But if the number is lower,” Obi-Wan moved his hand up the underside of Anakin’s leg, fingers brushing his inner thigh, pushing the edge of his underwear up slightly to get it out of frame, “the aperture is loose, relaxed, and more light will come in.”

Anakin swallowed hard, staring directly up to the ceiling, watching the places that it dipped slightly from all the rain that had fallen over the numerous years this building had been here. He was sweaty, breathing hard, and mind full of images he should not be thinking right now. His skin raced with every touch, not one press of Obi-Wan against him was missed by his mind. 

“The higher your shutter speed, the lower your f-stop. The faster your subject, the more light you need to let in, the looser your aperture.”

Faintly, Anakin could still hear the cassette playing out. He had heard the album a million times, but he couldn’t make out what song that was playing out of the speakers with how muddled his brain was. He leaned his head back into the pillow, basking in the small breeze that had him shivering, pulling goosebumps over the expanse of his chest. 

He closed his eyes, listening to the click of the shutter and twist of the film. The floor vibrated and shook slightly with each shift Obi-Wan took, trying to get the perfect angle. In the back of his head, he heard footsteps moving away from him and a click, most likely Obi-Wan starting a new roll of film, before the thud of a body next to him on the floor again, and more shuffling. There was nothing Anakin could focus on but the heat pooled low in his stomach, desperate for some sort of relief but afraid of asking for their session to over. 

_ He will be done soon. The sun will get too low in the sky and then he can drive you back to campus.  _

“Anakin, now can you keep your hips pointed the way they are and just turn your chest-”

Quickly he shifted himself, pulling his head over to the other side of his pillow and leaning as far in the opposite direction from where his hips were facing as possible. He felt warmth, and a breath cross his face before he fluttered his eyelids open to see stunning blue irises staring at him, as crystal blue as the sky that morning. 

They stayed like that for moments that dragged on so slowly, Anakin had wondered if time stopped. He watched those same crystal blue eyes flick over the features of his face, taking in the sight of the man inches before him. They were so close they shared breaths, Anakin suddenly aware that Obi-Wan was breathing just as hard as he was. 

“Perfect,” Obi-Wan gasped out leaning forward towards Anakin as an invitation he only had to accept. 

Anakin closed the small gap between them, lips meeting softly, carefully, a question behind it that was answered with Obi-Wan wrapping his hand in Anakin’s hair, camera thunking to the ground between them. Anakin had never felt more wanted in his life from the way that Obi-Wan melted into his touch, his own body arching slightly into Obi-Wan's roaming hand. The scratch of his beard along Anakin’s face was intoxicating. But just as quickly as it had started, Obi-Wan pulled away, blush spreading across his face, radiating behind his freckles. 

“I should- this shot it’s-”

“Oh,” Anakin whispered. “Yeah, uhm, is this-”

Obi-Wan trailed his hands down the expanse of Anakin’s chest, Anakin’s breath catching as his hand brushed over one of his nipples. Obi-Wan settled himself next to Anakin’s hips, shutter going off much faster, the turning of film higher-pitched than usual. 

Anakin felt a thud on the floor before a hand moved to his hip bone, pulling his hip back down onto the floor, letting him lie fully on his back. Obi-Wan trailed the tips of his fingers slowly across the waistband of Anakin’s underwear, looking up at the man laid out before him. 

“Anakin-”

Anakin propped himself up on his elbows, staring down at Obi-Wan, his fingers leaving a burning trail everywhere they went. 

“Please,” Anakin whimpered out, biting his lower lip to keep more from escaping. 

Obi-Wan pulled Anakin’s underwear off him, tossing them across the floor. He trailed his palms back up the expanse of Anakin’s legs, making the man shiver as he waited, wanting, needing those hands to reach the top. Anakin felt his own precome dripping onto his stomach, teeth digging into his lip so hard he thought it might make him bleed. 

“Oh dearest, don’t hide from me,” Obi-Wan said as he watched his face. “No one is here, and I  _ want _ to hear you.”

He finally made his way to Anakin’s lower stomach, kissing the sensitive skin there, pointedly ignoring his cock. He sucked small bruises into the skin, humming in appreciation as Anakin shivered against the sensation.

“Everything about you,” Obi-Wan said as he made his way down the junction where Anakin’s thighs met his hips. “Every inch of you, is divine. Like a Grecian portrait. Belongs in the finest of museums.”

Obi-Wan kept teasing him, pulling out every whimper possible, the scrape of his beard against Anakin’s cock blissful in ways Anakin could have never imagined.

“But I don't want you in a museum. I want to touch you. Feel you. Watch each frame I’ve captured come to life before my eyes, but only  _ my  _ eyes.”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin groaned, moving his hips to try and get any sort of attention.

“Hush dearest, I want to take my time with you,” Obi-Wan said, trailing two fingers up either side of Anakin’s cock. The lack of friction infuriating. “Even film needs time to develop.”

He tweaked Anakin’s nipples, rolling the buds between his fingers. Anakin was a begging mess,  _ pleases, _ and  _ oh’s _ escaping with each ragged breath. The words tumbling from his mouth were music, a sweet symphony, the same way a songbird sings to the waking of the morning. 

Finally, after Anakin felt he would come without ever getting to know what Obi-Wan’s mouth felt like on him, he felt the wet heat of a tongue flick across the head of his cock. 

Obi-Wan licked the small pool of precome off Anakin’s stomach before taking him into his mouth, Anakin collapsing down off his elbows and into the pillow in pure bliss. Steadily, Obi-Wan bobbed his head, hand at the base of Anakin’s cock to take what his mouth couldn’t yet. Anakin whined into the pillow, desperate to keep his hips as still as possible, mind slowly going blank with nothing but the feeling of Obi-Wan, of his lips wrapped around his length. 

Anakin moaned into the room as he felt his cock hit the back of Obi-Wan’s throat, bucking his hips slightly and feeling the man gag around him. 

“ _ Fuck- Fuck!  _ Obi-Wan.” 

He wrapped his hand through Obi-Wan’s hair, urging him to go further, to take all of him into his mouth. And he did. Anakin high from the feeling of Obi-Wan’s throat, hot and tight around him. He gripped Obi-Wan’s hair harder, earning a moan from the man that sent a jolt of pure pleasure straight to Anakin’s core. 

“Shit, ah- ah- Obi-Wan I’m so close please- please I-”

Obi-Wan took as much of him into his mouth as he could right as Anakin tumbled over the edge, spilling down his throat. Anakin relaxed into the floor, hand falling to his side from where it was wrapped in Obi-Wan’s hair, enjoying the cool breeze that fluttered through the windows yet again.

“I know I said how divine you looked earlier, but my love, how exquisite you look like this. An absolute fallen angel strewed out among the white.”

Anakin smiled, finally regaining himself again only to see Obi-Wan stripping himself of his shirt. He worked his way down the buttons to reveal his chest, discarding it before moving to his belt, eyes looking down to see Anakin watching him. 

“Enjoying the show?”

“Very much so,” Anakin mumbled out, mouth suddenly dry. 

“See, shows aren’t bad after all. I would’ve loved to have seen one from you days ago, but I’m patient.”

“Yeah, but I’m not,” Anakin said, pulling himself up onto his knees in front of Obi-Wan and looping his fingers through Obi-Wan’s belt loops. “I’m the least patient person I know.”

Anakin pulled Obi-Wan’s jeans down quickly, smiling at the fact that the man wasn't decent enough to wear underwear. Obi-Wan toed off his boots and kicked his jeans across the floor, staring down at Anakin before him. The man was so desperate, tongue darting out to lick his lips as he stared wide-eyed at the cock in front of him.

“Patience I don’t think is the word,” Obi-Wan said, brushing Anakin’s hair back and away from his face. “I believe  _ eager _ is more accurate.”

Anakin sucked spit into his mouth before taking Obi-Wan as far as he could, feeling him hit the back of his throat before moving back. He hollowed his cheeks, noticing how Obi-Wan would toss his head back at the suction. When his nose finally buried itself in the curls at the base he moaned around his length, the hand in his hair tightening and holding him there until his jaw hurt. Finally, he was tugged back, gasping slightly for air as saliva slid down his chin, a string of it connected his mouth to the tip of Obi-Wan’s beautifully pink cock. 

“While you’re extraordinary on your knees for me, I want to get to explore  _ all _ of you. Not just that pretty mouth of yours.”

Anakin’s eyes widened, cock achingly hard again, twitching at the implication behind Obi-Wan’s words. 

“I want to know every inch of your skin. Want to feel every ridge, every line, every tiny detail of what you deem unlovable.” He pulled Anakin up to him flush to his chest. “I need to explore every part of you to know what it’s like to see everything beautiful in the world.”

Obi-Wan captured him again in a kiss, passion radiating from both of them as they explored each other. Obi-Wan tasted of mint and black tea, and Anakin could even taste the slight remnants of himself laced underneath. His mouth was hot, warm, and above all, unfathomably needy for all that Anakin would give. 

“Wait,” Anakin said, pulling back. “I just- I’ve never-”

“Have you done anything with another man Anakin? Or even yourself?”

“No- not- I mean… Well like I’ve been with girls but men? Not really.” Anakin blushed, embarrassment settling into himself as he felt he had ruined everything. The bubble was close to bursting and it was Anakin who had found the pin to pop it. 

“Shh,” Obi-Wan cradled Anakin’s face in his hands. “Lay down on the blankets for me.” 

Anakin lowered himself back down onto the pillow he had been on earlier, moving to get rid of the other pillow that sat below his hips.

“Oh no no-” Obi-Wan said. “You’re going to want that.”

He watched as Obi-Wan rifled through his camera bag for a few minutes, becoming very aware of his own body with every second that passed. His eyes started flicking around the room for something to cover up with when Obi-Wan finally returned, setting a small bottle down on the floor next to them. 

“I’m… I’m going to make this feel so good for you. I’m so excited to give you this. To watch you experience this,” Obi-Wan said as he crawled back up to Anakin, pushing his hair out of his face yet again before kissing him. 

Obi-Wan trailed his hands over the bare expanse of Anakin’s chest as they kissed, slow and long. There was nothing to rush here, no reason to hurry.

“You just, carry lube in your camera bag?” Anakin finally mumbled out between kisses.

“It’s useful for more than just sex Anakin.”

“Oh, sure. And how many of your muses have you fucked?”

Anakin arched into Obi-Wan’s touch, the way that his hands smoothed down his sides, before Obi-Wan kissed down his chest, tongue darting out to taste his skin.

“Only the ones I find most ravishing.”

“Then your number must be in the double digits.”

“No,” Obi-Wan paused, looking up to where Anakin was laid so beautifully before him. “Only one.”

Faintly Anakin heard the bottle cap click open before something cold and wet prodded at his entrance, forcing his eyes open quickly.

“Shh, it’s ok. Listen, you say stop and we stop. Nothing more, ok? Are you ok with this?”

Anakin nodded sharply, staring nervously at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan came back up to kiss him, distract him from the strangeness of it all, and whisper how alluring he was, how good he was being. 

“Are you ready for more, love?” Obi-Wan breathed into his neck. Anakin nodded sharply again. “No, I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes, please.  _ More _ . I’m ready.”

He felt Obi-Wan push his finger in, only up to the first knuckle but enough to make Anakin clench at the intrusion. 

“Relax,” Obi-Wan breathed into his skin. “Relax for me dearest. You’re doing such a good job. So good for me.”

Anakin tilted his head back at the praise, a whimper escaping at hearing the word  _ dearest _ roll-off Obi-Wan’s tongue again. Obi-Wan kissed up the long line of Anakin’s neck, sucking bruises into his soft skin and whispering what Anakin could only deem as poetry against each spot. 

Relaxed, he could finally feel the pleasure starting to build again, whining at how slow Obi-Wan was going.  _ More _ fell from his lips as he started rocking his hips, desperate for that stretch again. 

Obi-Wan laughed against his skin, working a second finger into his tight heat as Anakin gripped his shoulders, biting the muscle, feeling as if at any moment he might burst into flames. 

“You’re taking my fingers so well, love. So good. God how I have wanted to see you like this since the first day I saw you sitting so pretty, so stunning, in the back of the room. Completely unaware of the way you arched your back as you leaned off the edge of your stool onto the counter.”

Anakin squirmed, rocking back onto Obi-Wan’s fingers more, coming apart at the seams. A bolt of pleasure shot up from his core as Obi-Wan brushed against something deep inside of him; Anakin’s cry and arch rivaling the beauty of the setting sun just outside their window.

“Sinc- ah- since then?” Anakin gasped out as he felt Obi-Wan scissoring his fingers inside him. “You had only just- ah fuck- just seen me.”

“And I already wanted to know how you’d melt on me.”

Obi-Wan added a third finger, Anakin stretched out before him, hair splayed across the pillow in a halo of dark blonde, the sun's rays casting its own golden glow upon him. His skin was luminescent in it; the sheen of sweat coming off him enough to make Obi-Wan want to live in this moment forever. 

“Please-Obi-Wan please, I need it-”

“What do you need, love?” Obi-Wan asked, brushing against his prostate again just to watch Anakin’s mouth open in a beautiful O--watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

“Fuck me- God damn please fuck me- I need you.”

Anakin felt empty without Obi-Wan’s fingers in him, desperate to be filled already. To know what it was like to be filled, fucked, but mostly loved, by someone he felt so safe with. 

“Patience Anakin. I don’t want to hurt my muse.”

He heard the cap of a bottle again, turning his gaze to watch Obi-Wan slicking his cock, getting himself ready. He threw both of Anakin’s legs over his shoulder, lining himself up, earning another symphony of  _ pleases _ from Anakin. 

As Obi-Wan pushed the head of his cock into Anakin’s tight entrance they both moaned, the feeling of finally being together hitting them both at the same time. 

“Ah- Obi- oh-” Was all that Anakin could manage, his head empty to everything other than the fullness of Obi-Wan inside him, the soothing way one of Obi-Wan’s hands worked up and down his leg. Finally, Anakin felt Obi-Wan’s hips flush with himself, knowing he had taken all of his cock. 

“Obi-Wan, move, please- I want you to fuck me- fuck,” Anakin drew out the last word.

“Such a dirty mouth,” Obi-Wan teased, finally moving slowly, letting Anakin adjust to him. “For something so tantalizing.”

“I bet I’m- ugh- I’m far dirtier than you believe I could be.”

“Is that so?” Obi-Wan said, snapping his hips hard into Anakin. “I’ve heard the most delicate things, the most beautiful can also be the most vile.”

The sound of their combined moans and hips meeting skin filled the room. Anakin could feel his pleasure building with each thrust, each time Obi-Wan hit that point in him so perfectly. He couldn’t get him close enough, his fingertips digging into Obi-Wan’s shoulders and down his biceps. 

Anakin vibrated with how loved he felt, how needed and wanted and safe he was under Obi-Wan. Everything overloading his senses, every pinprick of pleasure pushing him closer, unraveling every fear he had kept so close to his chest all these years.

“So, so beautiful. Open those stunning blue eyes for me love. I want to see them,” Obi-Wan panted out. 

Anakin opened his eyes to Obi-Wan above him, hand moving from where it was fisted next to his face to wrap around Anakin’s curls, pulling his head back slightly. The sight of Obi-Wan’s face beaded with sweat, pupils blown, staring back at him with desire he had never seen before wound the coil in Anakin’s core tighter, threatening to snap at any minute.

“Obi-Wan I’m-” Obi-Wan reached between them, wrapping his hand around Anakin’s cock, moving with the pace of his thrusts. 

“Come for me dearest. I want to watch you fall apart. Come pretty-”

Anakin could barely hold on for Obi-Wan to finish his pleas, spilling onto his stomach in hot spurts, feeling the warmth as it hit his chest. Obi-Wan’s thrust became more erratic, every synonym for  _ pretty _ falling from his lips until he stilled, spilling inside of Anakin, kissing sloppy trails up the inside of Anakin’s calves. 

He was so blissed out he barely registered Obi-Wan pulling out of him, slipping a pillowcase off the third, unused pillow to wipe Anakin’s skin clean, peppering feather-light kisses along the way, and eventually cradling Anakin into his chest. 

Once Anakin finally regained his senses, woke a bit more from the hazy serenity he found himself in, he looked up at Obi-Wan, earning a kiss on his forehead. 

“You think- you still think I’m beautiful?” Anakin felt small pinpricks of tears forming at the corner of his eyes, almost afraid to even ask the question. 

“Yes, my love,” Obi-Wan said, caressing Anakin’s face. “You are as beautiful as the first day of spring for a winter ravaged field. As beautiful as fresh snowfall overnight, the way that the sun glitters against its surface. As- As beautiful as- Anakin there’s nothing in the universe that can compare to you.”

“Are you sure? You barely know me.” Anakin asked, relaxing into Obi-Wan’s side.

“Yes Anakin,” Obi-Wan chuckled a bit, the vibrations sounding so different in Anakin’s ears. “Of course I’m sure. I may barely know you but sometimes you just know. I think the question is, why are you so  _ unsure _ ?”

He hadn’t shared his past with his friends around campus. There was too much there he wanted to remain buried, and he hated the apologies that came after the story was finished. But he trusted Obi-Wan enough to at least start the story, give a brief retelling as the man played with the curls of his hair. 

“My mom raised me by herself. And we- well we didn’t have much. Not much money to be made as a single mom during a war who knew nothing about medicine, and couldn’t leave a child alone. Then, which you could probably already notice, without a father figure I picked up a few more feminine traits than my schoolmates were fond of. You grow up with nothing and get it pointed out enough times, you kinda start to believe you are.”

“Dearest,” Obi-Wan started, pulling Anakin’s chin up so he could see his face. “You are something to this universe. And I hope today might help you re-discover that.”

Anakin simply nodded, burying his face back into Obi-Wan’s chest with a small smile. 

They laid there for a while, enjoying each other’s company and the way nature sounded as it prepared for sleep. The scurrying of squirrels running across the roof, woodpeckers tapping out a rhythm against bark, crickets chirping their alarm; the world was peaceful so long as they were here. 

But Anakin knew it wouldn’t last, Obi-Wan moving to get up sooner than he would have liked. Already he missed the smell of fresh linen and sweat that came from being so near to him, the way their bodies were able to curve together so perfectly. He missed the feeling of Obi-Wan cradling his head and the way his chest rose and fell so smoothly, so full of life. 

“Come on,” Obi-Wan said, kissing Anakin’s forehead again. “I have to get you back to campus.”

“We can’t just…”

“I have a presentation in the morning to some investors. Photography is wonderful, but to make a living wage sometimes I have to deal with the unpleasantries of business.”

“Said like a true businessman,” Anakin said, gathering his clothes from around the crumbling room. 

The ride home was too short: Anakin uncomfortable sitting on the cloth seats, being jostled at every turn on the gravel road back towards society. 

They didn’t talk the entire way back to campus: Obi-Wan opting to leave his window open and dangle his arm out as the sun crept below the horizon. No matter how many times Anakin wanted to say something, he felt that whatever he had to say could wait. But not everyone has the gift of time, and as Obi-Wan pulled up to Anakin’s building he realized: he was out of time. 

Anakin turned to Obi-Wan, unsure of what to say or even do. But Obi-Wan decided for him, reaching his hand to the back of Anakin’s neck and pulling him in for one final kiss. There was nothing charged about this one, if anything a hint of sadness dancing between them. When they finally separated Anakin put his forehead against Obi-Wan’s, unwilling to pull away from the man. 

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan whispered. “For everything.”

“Of course,” Anakin kissed his cheek before pulling away. “I hope your pictures turn out well.”

“I know they’ll be everything I hope for and more.”

As Anakin got out of the car he hesitated a second, trying to pull his heart along with him as he slammed the door shut, watching as Obi-Wan pulled away and backed out onto the street. He watched until he couldn’t see his taillights anymore; until he was standing staring at nothing and wondering how he had gotten to this point. 

How he had l _ et  _ himself get to this point. 

*****

Every class was boring to Anakin as the week went on, especially Intro to Photography. There was nothing that interested him, nothing that spoke to him as an artist. But he heeded Obi-Wan’s advice, going to the local mechanic’s shop right off campus and asking if he could watch the guys work for a bit and learn along the way. The owner was a bit perplexed, but Anakin was a nice enough guy that he didn’t mind too much. 

His job: air in tires. Otherwise, just watch from afar. 

After a particularly busy day of classes and the mechanic, Anakin went to check his college mailbox. It wasn't often he decided to, but something tugged at him to just glance at it. Maybe Mom had written, or even better maybe a few goodies were waiting for him in a care package. He could really go for some homemade cookies right about now. 

Instead, the corner of an envelope stuck out from the bottom. Unusual, considering the mailman filled their boxes from the back, arms not long enough to push them all the way to the front. Anakin had to help Ashoka reach hers half the time. 

He spun out the combination to his unit and saw “To my muse” in perfect cursive written on the front of a cream-colored envelope. His heart pounded in his chest, tracing the lines with the pad of his finger and wondering if it could really be from him. If Obi-Wan had actually tracked him down again and wanted to see him. Wanted  _ him. _

Anakin tore open the back of the envelope, only as careful as his excitement allowed him, pulling out a single black and white photograph. It took him a few moments, but then his brain started to connect the dots: it was the outline of his neck, the first photo that Obi-Wan had taken the night they were together. Obi-Wan had been right: it was stunning. All sharp angles, his Adam’s apple jutting out of his neck in a way he had never even seen before. It was elegant, extravagant, something that belonged in a museum. 

He flipped the photo to the back and saw the same scrolled writing:

_ My dearest Anakin, _

_ My muse, _

_ Will you meet me again? Say September 10, this Saturday, 3 o’clock sharp. I’ll drive.  _

_ -Obi-Wan Kenobi.  _

Anakin clung the picture tightly to his chest, tears forming at the corners of his eyes from how wide he smiled, and ran upstairs, looking forward to Saturday more than ever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! As always come say hello on [tumblr](https://xeniaraven.tumblr.com/)! I have some ideas of other things with these two but only if y'all are interested. I absolutely adore playing with the later 1970s and early 1980s so this has been so much fun for me. See ya on the flipside!


End file.
